


Unnecessary Dreams

by Myrrlhe



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/F, Sex, but like. this isn't horny at all, heavy spoilers to altera's interlude 2, kriemhild from nibelungenlied, so if you're just looking for a good jack off this is not for you im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrrlhe/pseuds/Myrrlhe





	Unnecessary Dreams

Sometimes, when Altera closed her eyes and fell into an unnecessary dream, she would be on the back of a horse, flying across the plains with the wind. It would get so often that when she had gotten a mock grail by her master (master, what a humorous word), she had wished for one. The feeling of the mass of muscles moving between her thighs, as she held the reins in one hand and a sword in the other, it made her remember the past, specifically of a period not tinged with blood. Some would call that being nostalgic but she, of all things, did not possess enough emotions to feel that way. At least, not yet.

That was what she was reminded of as she shifted her position on top of the woman on the bed.

"...More." The woman's whisper was thin as the flimsiest of clouds. It suited her, with hair of hewn moonlight framing delicate features, at the same time it didn't. Altera remembered how she had fought with the rage of the foreign sky behind her, crossing her lance against Altera's blade with the strength of a thousand armies.

She complied with the woman's demands. The flesh underneath her thighs moved and pulsated as she ground harder, the pressure leaving tingles on her own body as well. While doing so, she leaned forward, taking a hold of the woman's left breast for better leverage. It was pleasant, the flesh this time soft, and complying. Stemming from the comfortable touch are thoughts. Had she done this in the past, holding another woman close? Had she done things other than to destroy before she gained awareness? They drift into her head, latching onto each other. It is foreign...but not unpleasant.

"Siegfried..." The woman croaks. Her voice is wet with tears, but her face itself is alight in a far-away happiness. It's as if the woman's in a dream, but one that is close to breaking. A shadow of pity darkens her unfeeling heart. Even though it was the woman who called her here, it's far from satisfying what she really needs. Even to a machine like her, that much is clear. But since there is nothing she can do, she moves on from the issue.

Instead, her thoughts drift to the name. Siegfried... It was the knight she had talked to, about... Her shoulders relax. Yes, about her wife. There might have been a woman like that in her life. Her name...Could she remember the name...? She dug back into her memories. Her name back then was Etzel... Was there a person who called her that, with brimming tenderness? The word made her heart ache, and she gave that particular gyration some extra force, making the woman under her gasp. It's starting to get very wet if it wasn't before.

A vision, an image of a woman holding a sword flashes past her. The woman is holding the blade high, swinging it down with a guttural yell, hacking off a man's neck. The part between her legs are now burning hot, and she relieves it on the body under her. Yes... Kriemhild. That was the name. Like a series of dominoes, some of the pieces come falling together. She understands now why there have not been any memories of tenderness, it was because there was none. Kriemhild was a woman of revenge, her focus on the men who had betrayed her past husband, Siegfried. Siegfried again. It seemed to all lead back to him. Was that what it meant to be the hero of so many? To be a hero...To be loved.

Her arm shifted to the woman's collarbone, aware of the humidity in the air for the first time. Their pants mingle in the space between them, solidifying on their skin. They're both entrenched in the fire from their hearts, but yet, it is not enough. Rather, she was going about it the wrong way. Would Siegfried know the answer? She does not know, only to feel, to destroy, that's what she was for. The glow of a sword cleaves through the questions like how Kriemhild cut the head off her husband's murderer. Were they truly no feelings between them, the logic says no, but then why does she burn? Her fingers curl up into the cloud of moonlight, the color of her skin patches of earth in the sky. She burns hotter and hotter and she does not know enough to understand, only to act. With her past memories in a blur, nothing is clear.

"...What is wrong?" She opens her eyes. Yes, this body under her was not just a hunk of flesh. The body, no it was Brynhildr. Yes, Brynhildr who asks her. Her name is so similar to...

"I see my past wife in my arms." There is no point in lying. "I see her, sword in hand and fallen body on her feet, and I burn, from which I do not know."

"I am familiar with that burning." She replies. "It is the same fire that I jumped into when Siegfried's body was burned."

"A funeral pyre?"

"It's love."

Her brows furrow. "I am incapable of feeling love."

Brynhildr smiles, the first time she acted to Altera, not the figure in her dreams. "There was a time where I was like you, a doll, an extension of a will. Love has the power to change who you are."

She was not a fool. "It has changed you to become twisted and mad. You had attacked me once, tried to flay the flesh from my bones."

The woman nods. "I was wronged, which turned on my emotions. It made me go mad, as you said. But I do not regret it."

"You are justified?" She demands the answer like the former king she is.

"I am."

She presses on."By whom?"

Brynhildr shakes her head, scattering the moonlight. "There is no need to seek justification of anyone but yourself. I, an individual by love, can make that choice."

"I was made to destroy," Altera repeats the fact that she knows, out of all the uncertain.

"Do you wish to destroy?" There is a note of a different fluttering in the woman's voice. She recognizes it, but it takes a while for her to act on it, she has never heard it directed to her before.

"Do you dare pity me, the king of Huns?" Her voice is taut, like a reign. Her fingers grip the bird-like neck, that abnormal pale. She could summon her sword now. Swing the blade as if she was on a horse, reigns tightly in the other hand. Swing. Destroy. Kriemhild's figure dances in front of her. Do it do it doit.

No, she was not a murderer. Only a destroyer.

She lets go of the neck. "I cannot change who I am."

"There is no need. You already love her." Brynhildr doesn't even acknowledge the event, lying still as before. "You just have to realize it yourself." Her eyes are shining, shining like never before. Maybe it was her who had stepped into the woman's dream while mixing bodies.

Altera closes her eyes. Maybe it would be fine to dream, for just a little. She takes a hold of Brynhildr(Kriemhild)'s hand and brings it to her lips. The skin underneath, the muscles moving with blood underneath her touch. Maybe it is something nostalgic after all.


End file.
